The life & times of the eternally evolving, erratic, eccentric expatriate (who loves the color violet)

I am not a social butterfly, nor have I ever been. Not really. Nah, not at all, come to think of it. I may moonlight as an extroverted, eccentric teacher in front of students and colleagues alike during most of my waking hours, but at the end of the day, I know what and who I am:

I am an introvert through and through, but by this time in my life, I’ve come to learn that there is nothing wrong with that. For the first time in 33 years, I am starting to feel okay with being alone with my thoughts, hanging out by myself most of the time, and doing my own thing.

However, that doesn’t mean that I am socially backward or reject interaction with other humans. Quite the contrary. I simply value meaningful personal relationships and quality over quantity. I cannot pretend to be someone or something that I’m not, nor feign enthusiasm over stuff that I find superficial and overrated (or sometimes just stupid).

So today at my embassy here in Buenos Aires, there was a massive protest staged against Trump as the new POTUS, and also to show support for women’s rights. Now that is something I can totally get behind for so many reasons, on so many levels (but that’s a whole other blog post).

In the end, I didn’t go, mostly since Seba has come down with a nasty stomach virus, but also because I didn’t think that any of my friends were going to be there. I mean, let’s face it, most anything in life is more enjoyable when you have someone with whom you can share the experience – going to a concert, eating out, engaging in any kind of shenanigans, really.

It’s not that I didn’t try to reach out. I messaged a few friends yesterday to see what they were up to, but none of them were able to hang out for one reason or another. Whatever. I didn’t think much of it, until a little while ago, when I saw the tagged Facebook posts of an acquaintance. I started counting… 1, 2, 3… 8 or 9 people from my job, some of them people who I would consider friends, were there at the embassy, decked out in pink, war paint, and protest signs looking fierce and proud.

Umm… why didn’t anyone invite me???

I thought we were friends! 🙁

Ouch.I have to be frank here, the initial sting still hasn’t worn off, in part because this is not the first time this has happened. I feel dejected. I feel uncool, I feel hurt, and I feel like crawling back into my shell and swearing off mankind for at least a good decade.

I know, I know… Bitter much?

I know that I’m not as young and “hip” as some of my coworkers. I also know that being a mom to a young child is yet another major friendship-busting obstacle. But just because I can’t accompany them to a night out on the town bar-hopping till daybreak or inebriation (whichever comes last), doesn’t mean that I’m dead. It doesn’t mean that I’m not here… so what the actual hell, dude?

I don’t know if I should chalk this up to being too introverted, being currently too much in “Mom” mode, being too sensitive, or simply being too “Violet.” It’s hard at this point to determine where shit went wrong and why and what my next move should be. All I know is that I am running out of patience with flakey or fair-weather friends, but it feels like, considering my circumstances, it’s slim pickins for me for now.